Memories Of A Convict
by PersiaZS0
Summary: The tale of the head-lining adventure CON AIR told through a single female covict aka the Teen slaughterer Lex. Some friendships formed between the convicts, even criminals need some happiness. R&R CON AIR FANATICS
1. Chapter 1

_**Con air story: First Take off**_

The cell on this damned plane was starting to piss me off. What sadistic bastards make metal stools this tiny and makes convicts sit on them for the next god knows how many hours.

Being the only female convict on this plane was worse, the others kept staring until they realised who I was then they turned away. It was unpleasant, though it wasn't as bad as these chaffing metal restraints.

I cracked open my eyes once more and was greeted by the bright sunlight which was partially blocked by the metal bars, towards my left.

What really caught my attention was a conversation between the virus and someone else. I tilted my head closer towards the cell on my right listening in on the conversation which was in Spanish, good thing I knew. And I know listening on a conversation which was none of your business was a bad thing, children, but we're all convicts here right? Rhetorical question, don't answer.

''You're the famous criminal, my friend.'' Cyrus said.

''Yeah, my name is Johnny 23.'' The other person answered. Johnny 23, why the hell isn't he in one of these damned cells like the rest of us.

''Oh, yes, you're Johnny 23, sure, I know you,' Cyrus continued in a rather delightfully, mocking voice, "23 counts of rape."

I heard the lift of chains, before 23 replied, "look, one heart for each of my bitches.''

So each rape was worth a heart on his sleeve, tattooed on his arm. What a way to show his crimes.

23 said in a much louder voice, in English, "they'd call me Johnny six hundred if they knew the truth.'' A smirk was visible in his voice.

I was about to raise my eyebrow at that statement until I noticed the female guard walk pass my cell. What a rapist, pun intended.

"that doesn't quite have the same ring to it, anyhow I despise rapists, to me you're somewhere between a cockroach and that white stuff that accumulates at the corner of your mouth when you're really thirsty,' he answered solemnly in a voice that could make a grown man piss his pants.

"But, in your case I'll make an exception,' he finished cheerfully. This virus really knows how to rile someone up.

23 chuckled slightly saying in Spanish once more, "think that if you want cue ball, but I'd love to have that hot piece of ass right next to you-''

"You better be talking about the lovely guard that just passed me or I'd just love to cut out that gangly piece of shit called your heart and add it onto your arm with your other bitch hearts, so you were saying something, amigo, I didn't quite catch it?" I interrupted him in English.

"My, my, what a mouth you have, _convictess_.' Cyrus replied, with amusement clearly heard in his voice.

I smiled in response; well the thing is that my smile to put it in one word simply, would be 'scary', it looked like a smirk as it only revealed the two fanged teeth on my left set of teeth, not to mention, my eyes were closed giving off an eerie, uncomfortable silence.

Before we continue, I should probably introduce myself, strange at how I leave these things to the end, oh well no harm, no foul.

Anyway back to the introduction, I have straight black hair that reaches my breastbone, it was parted sideways covering half my face, rather dull, no?

My skin tone was a tone slightly lighter than milk-chocolate or so I've been told by some old friends. Needless to say I haven't been keeping contact with them. My eyes are always in a sleepy state-expression. My iris danced on the line of light and dark brown. My nose was simple, uninjured...yet. My lips are thin and at a medium length and size. My entire mouth always seems to have a certain sense of smugness settling on them, giving a sly, never-to-be trusted look.

At the moment, I'm writing a memoir using the present tense, though, from whatever I'm able to recount of a very special occasion that seems to be etched in stone, so to speak, in my mind and memories. Yes, this is the story of the infamous tale of CON AIR.

As to why I write this, well I'm not quite sure yet, it is obvious I survived the crash in that Las Vegas casino; perhaps I want to remember this momentous event or because I'm simply bored. Anyhow, this tale that shall be told in due time involves many convicts that most do not enjoy, so don't say I didn't warn you.

To whoever reads this journal which I have left behind in this small cabin, I wish to tell you of the tale CON AIR not only to have someone to remember me but to give you perspective. As to what kind of 'perspective' I am referring to, I shall reveal in the later parts of this memoir.

For now, I should probably tell you my name; it is Alexis Fernandez aka Lex or my professional name, 'The Teen Slaughterer.'

As to how I received such a name, we'll get to that later. If you are not a murderer then mind you, there are graphic scenes of horror and gore never meant for kiddies! Not to mention, some lewdness and lots of good ole' violence.

This is the tale consists of some diamond-dog authors, pinheads, cops and a certain diabolical, criminally-insane, overly-intelligent but an okay guy... for a convict, that is, who came up with the headlining adventure of CON AIR...

_**Author note: please review, I am not sure whether I should continue, some small motivation is needed. I should probably warn you that some people won't die but Johnny 23 will die earlier than expected. Hope you'll not mind, I encourage some criticism just don't flame my fucking story. Any questions will be answered in next chapter.**_

_**R&R con air fans.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_THE ONE AND ONLY REVIEWER_ = _heyitsKATE _

_THX ALOT, HOPE I CAN GET MORE AMAZING FEEDBACK BECAUSE I'M LOST OVER HERE_

_MAKE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE AMAZING REVIEWER'S USEFUL ADVICE CAUSE FACE IT_

_EVERYONE NEEDS HELP [somewhere in the distance, 'FREE PHYCIATRISTS FOR ALL!']_

_FOWARD WITH OUR STORY [POINTS DOWNWARDS]_

_**Con air: Breakout**_

'Oh stewardess, stewardess, what's the in-flight movie today?'

I had to stifle a chuckle.

The head guard was particularly peeved though. 'I think you'll like it Cyrus, it's called, 'I'll never make love to a woman on the beach again' preceded by the award-winning shore, 'no more steak for me ever.' The guard retorted, laughing at his own joke, along with a mocking virus's laugh.

'Funny fucker, aren't you,' he mumbled as the guard moved to my cage.

'Well, well what do we have here? The countess of slaughtering, hmm? Or was it the bitching teen?'

'I believe it's the teen slaughterer, after all it is my professional name, and its sad isn't it, when a grown man can't even remember the simplest of names. Tell me does Alzheimer run in your family, after all the elderly are prone-'

He banged on my cage, causing it to screech loud. 'Ya fucking bitch!' he yelled and started walking away.

'Was that an order sir?'I called after him.

I could hear diamond dog and even Billy Bedlam snickering, while Cyrus just let out a snort of laughter.

Just then, call me insane, thank you, but I think I heard something click.

That was just before hell broke loose. Smoke and the stench of burning was heard clearly and pinball, shouting for help repeatedly until the female guard pulled him away from the toasting dude who was being showered in fire extinguish.

And a loud siren started sounding its blue head off. I heard the turn of keys as pinball pulled the lever releasing the dangerous criminal/author diamond dog who was out of his chains, explains that fucking clicking sounds I heard earlier. Diamond dog was effectively using his opened cuff, slicing open someone's throat and started using the corpse as a human barricade against approaching guards until the tasers brought him to the floor.

Meanwhile, Cyrus, the ever lunatic started banging against the cell with his cuffs making fire engine noises as diamond dog thrashed against the guards trying to relinquish their hold.

Cyrus was busy ordering pinball who was in a brawl with the female guard, to pull the lever until he finally complied and released the virus. The virus punched a guard into unconsciousness and made his way to the cockpit. Having a shoot-out with one of the pilots, killing off three convicts in the damned process with the encouragement of the fellow inmates. He pointed the gun at the last remaining pilot before finally shooting out that god-damned siren, effectively shutting up everyone.

'Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking; I have the only gun on board, welcome to con air.' The virus announced. Subsequently followed by the applauding and cheers of the lovely passengers.

Got to give the man credit he knew how to get to the point, and give in a bit of dark humour.

Meanwhile, Diamond dog was busy dragging a dead corpse leaving a rather disturbing trail of blood, grunting, and 'damn, this pig is heavy.' Why'd you kill him in the first place than?

The female guard was chained to the cell before me; she was in deep shit considering how México es número uno violador was giving her a look-see.

Billy bedlam was already out, Cyrus was taking his goddamn time, strolling, I repeat_ strolling over to my cell._ Hurry up already, man! These restraints were seriously starting to piss me off.

'If I let you out, you gonna play nice with all the other children?' he asked in a rather disturbing yet patronizing voice.

'Hell no.' I stated bluntly. If any of the 'other children' piss me off, there is going to be some serious ass-kicking. In lament terms, piss me off, and my foot will find its way up your ass.

He smirked, 'I think I like you already convictess.' He opened my cell, tossing me the keys to these fucked up restraints; I hopped over to the more comfortable_ seats_.

I snorted in amusement. His smirk only widened as he leaned against a barricade, stating casually, 'I think I particularly enjoyed your work on carving that 'annoying girl' as you so stated in your trial.'

'You blowing up your cousin and his yacht in particular peaked my interest,' and before he could respond, I pointed to the scene unfolding ahead of us, 'it would seem that there is trouble on the deck.'

He frowned in displeasure as he turned around, starting angrily towards the gilipollas gran and the 'hillbilly' who were in a brawl with one another…. over the female guard. I shook my head in disbelief, grown men were the most mature, my ass.

This proves that, yes children, your parents spew shit to you all the time.

'HEY!' Cyrus yelled out angrily, 'Relax, he's right, not here not now.'

I was already walking towards the cockpit, avoiding the brawl's aftermath. Just as I was about to enter the pilot's cabin, Billy bedlam blocked me with his tall frame asking, 'why the hell you are going in there for?'

'The testosterone levels in here is making me lose what little sanity I have left, so Ya mind moving out of my way, bedlam.' I replied, bored.

'Not at all, missy.' He moved off away from me.

As I opened the door, the pilot's head snapped towards my direction, almost immediately relief befell his features as he turned to face the front again.

I raised an eyebrow at this scene, before letting out my demonic smile, and proceeded to sit comfortably on the remaining seat beside the for-now-relieved pilot.

As the uncomfortable silence stretched on, he started asking awkwardly, 'so what are you in for? Drugs, embezzlement, prostitution?'

Wait. Did he just say prostitution? I grinded my teeth harshly, my jaw taut. Well, since I can't hurt this punk, might as well scare the shit out of him.

'Well,' I started, this is going to be good, 'I was actually supposed to get the injection, but instead they gave me a shitload of consecutive life sentences, well I'm not surprised considering I murdered over 20 people nearly two decades ago, I think I was around fifteen years old or so.' I mused, staring directly at the now panic stricken pilot whose face was drained of all colour.

'Yo-ou'r-e the t-ee-nn mur-der-ere-sss,' he stuttered uncontrollably.

'Slaughterer,' I corrected him out of habit, I suppose.

Just then, diamond dog entered asking, 'we good here?'

At that moment, he saw the pilot's face and stared at me with the words 'the fuck did you do to him' clearly written on his face.

My 'smile' only widened.


	3. Chapter 3

_**=) heyitsKATE**_

**Grazie per il consiglio straordinario **

**Con air: Carson City**

Fuck.

Fuck. This. Fucking. Sandstorm.

Why in hells name did I have to be here, dressed as a female guard in the most annoying sandstorm of the century, it was worse than the fucking fiasco with that DEA agent from before.

Oh right. The Virus said so.

Bastard.

"Heard you had a problem up there,' the Carson city prison guard stated to the virus.

"We had to bag them and gag them, rough crew, bunch of shitters and spitters." The Virus answered his voice barely audible over the raging sandstorm, oh the sweet irony. And God bless the invention of masks.

There were two 'convicts' were struggling; the pilot and the head prison guard, but to no avail. The Virus met with our new pilot; Swamp Thing. They didn't speak, but to anyone who was paying attention such as me, could see some form of recognition flash over Swamp Thing's face, before he was moved off towards 'con air'.

"Is that it?" Cyrus asked.

"One more!" the guard replied.

"Who?''

"Garland Green!"

I swear I saw the Virus tense for a split second before he replied, "this should be interesting."

A large black had pulled over, as guards started inserting keys, opening the doors and using metal pole-like keys to remove his restraints from the large chair, but still kept it on, allowing them to control his movements. Other than the extreme body restraints, was a Hannibal Lecter-style mask. Looking at it gave me slight chills up my spine, and most of our 'guards'/convicts were unnerved by this sight.

23 was the first to speak up, "What the fuck is that!''

"Garland Green, dumbass,'' I murmured, turning away from them, and walked towards Cyrus.

"What now, convict?'' I asked him.

"Go and tell Swamp Thing to get the plane ready for take-off, and since when did you call me 'convict'?'' he ordered, and then asked.

"When you started calling me 'convictess', Cyrus."

"Oh, so now we're on first-base name-calling, when do we get third?'' you could hear the smugness in the bastards voice.

"When hell freezes over!" I called over my shoulder.

"What the hell was that about?" I heard Diamond Dog ask The Virus.

"Foreplay, my friend, sweet ole' foreplay," he replied. I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of that statement.

Just then the prison's bus stopped. I gazed uncertainly at it, willing it to move with my mind alone with the word 'shit' kept running through it until the bus finally moved off. Everyone let out a sigh of relief, I included, and we were too close to freedom to get caught.

I moved up the plane's ramp, heading towards the pilot. When I got there, I suddenly heard the sound of a gun fired and approaching police cars. Everyone turned around to see the Virus and the other remaining convicts approaching forms, as they boarded the plane. The Virus gave the command to leave, and the plane started taking off with Swamp Thing at the controls.

I quickly strapped myself to the seat as Cyrus arrived, draping his elbows over our shoulder-rests.

A loud voice stated that we were not authorized for take-off, which Swamp Thing felt the need to respond with, "nobody on this airplane gives a flying, get it flying fuck," he looked over in Cyrus's direction, who grinned and Swamp Thing added, "no offence, miss," when he noticed me.

I only glanced at him, sinking farther back into my seat, did I mention I hated heights.

It wasn't long before we were in the air, the convicts cheering and the guards long gone. Diamond Dog and Francisco Cindino came into view; Diamond Dog replaced Cyrus's position while he sat in the backseats along with the heir of a Colombian drug cartel family who was apparently financing the escape.

He asked anxiously, "don't they have a way of tracking these planes?"

Swamp Thing answered confidently, "oh yeah, It's called the transponder, every plane has got one."

"And where is the transponder?" Diamond Dog questioned. Swamp Thing chuckled while Cyrus leaned over Diamond Dog's shoulder, his hand grabbing onto my headrest, faking a gasp before stating "where indeed?"

Everyone started chuckling, especially Diamond Dog and Swamp Thing, whilst I muttered a simple, "Idiots."

The Virus and Diamond Dog left before returning shortly after visiting and releasing Garland Green which had visibly shaken up Diamond Dog, apparently, whilst the Virus was whistling show tunes.

I blinked uncertainly, thinking the man was insane, well he was but needn't all murderers slightly insane, me included.

"Pinball didn't make it."

"No? That's too bad, I liked Pinball."

"Really?" I asked him sarcastically.

Like before, before he could respond, hill-Billy came in.

"What do you want?'' Diamond Dog demanded, obviously showing his disdain for the 'white man'.

"I wanna know where the plane lands," he answered.

"Why do you care?" Diamond Dog countered his question with another one.

He looked Diamond Dog in the eye before answering, "I got just as much riding on this as you do, we all convicts here, right?"

"**Cyrus Grissom, do you copy, Cyrus Grissom, do you copy?" **The communicator interrupted the conversation, causing everyone to turn to him.

"Yes I copy, identify yourself.''

"**United states Marshall, Vince Larkins and Dunken Malloy of DEA."**

"Oh, Agent Malloy, I'm so sorry about your associate nothing makes me quite as sad as a grown man pissing his pants." Cyrus answered cheerfully.

"**Listen Grissom, you puny fucking animal, when I get through with you, you'll be begging them for the ****chair!"** another man's voice who I assumed was agent Malloy, exclaimed loudly into the communicator.

Cyrus's smile turned into a scowl, before he answered fiercely, "Hey, I don't like him, if he talks again, this conversation is terminated."

"**He doesn't want to talk again really, he is done talking, and he's leaving the building right now."** Vince responded hurriedly.

"Good, I'll talk to you here is the rule; First, I ask a question then you ask a question, like, in Carson City, your bulls were onto us, how?"

"**One of the guards faked a heart attack and the guards had to remove ****his restraints."**

"I see, what is your question now?"

"**Where are you taking my plane, Cyrus?"**

"We're going to Disneyland." I scoffed at his answer.

"**You're lying Cyrus."**

"So are you Vince," the Virus answered, before he started singing, "_oh, nothing makes me sadder when the agent lost his bladder on the airplane..._"

The transmission was cut off with a loud bang.

He turned towards Poe, pointing to a location on a map, saying, "Lerner airfield, Poe, that's our rendezvous point, forty-nine minutes from anything resembling authority, so now you know." He started closing the metal door.

If it was so far away from authority, then why the hell did my gut sense something terrible was going to happen.

**R&R**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Con Air: Lerner Airfield**_

_**[Probably should Tell you that some convicts die earlier and some don't die at all]**_

PROPANE DANGER.

I officially hate flying and airplanes in general, and whose fault is this sudden resentment for everything resembling aircrafts. Easy, starts with an S and ends with a Thing. Can you guess who the bastard is yet?

Nevermind, we were finally here. Lerner Airfield, which was basically stationed in a barren wasteland and a pile of airplanes rotting their asses off, well, one can't get too picky; it sure beats a prison cell. Apparently I wasn't the only one.

"Lerner Airfield, I'm so glad to be here." Cyrus said in a rather monotonous tone that said otherwise though.

The sun was blazing hot, yet most of the convicts were ripping off their shirts and yelling their fucking heads off.

"Thank you for choosing Con Air."

"Where's the plane Francisco?" Cyrus questioned the drug-heir.

"I don't know, have patience," he answered hurriedly.

"The last guy that told me to have patience, I burned him down and bagged his ashes," the Virus obviously had no patience.

"Cyrus it will be here,'' Francisco assured him immediately.

"Muchacha, go to the tower and have a look-see."

23 was disgruntled by the "girl" comment but nodded anyway.

"Convictess, you too." My head snapped towards him, and I bit out, "What the hell did I ever do to you?"

"When you told me third base was never a possibility, and I quote-"

I stormed off before he could finish his sentence. "Cruel bastard," I mumbled to myself.

I arrived to see that the tower was nearly in shambles but stable enough to not collapse on muchacha and myself.

"Why the fuck are you here?" 23 demanded rather than asked of me.

"Viruses' have a cruel sense of humour."

"Looks like cue ball's doing me a favour,' 23 was, needless to say, content with this situation. The feeling was most definitely not mutual. I ignored his comment.

Just then I spotted a trail of blood leading to underneath the consoles. It led to a covered object, at first I thought it was a dead animal, until I ripped open the sheet, discovering a corpse; a freshly killed corpse.

Wait.

No one was here before me or muchacha, which meant Francisco's lackeys were here.

"Hey muchacha looks like our ride is-''my words were cut off as my air supply was cut off by a thick piece of rope.

My hands tried gripping the rope and pull it away, but to no avail. My attacker swung me into one of the metallic walls, pressing my torso and face against its cold surface. My vision blurred threatening to send me into unconsciousness as I struggled to breathe.

"I'm gonna use your entire body to make me feel great again." I felt my attacker's warm breath on my neck. 23 was going to pay hell for this, there was no fucking way I was going this dipshit's next victim.

I bent my head forward and swung it back with full force, satisfied as I heard his nose break into two. He let out a yell of pain, releasing his grip of the rope as he tried to stop the profuse bleeding of his nose. I swung my fist forward, aiming for his jaw and successfully forcing him backwards. As I searched for a weapon, specifically the rope he tried choking me with.

My vision was still blurred, disallowing me to see his foot that was aimed for my ribcage, launching me into the consoles; I clutched my side in pain, trying to relieve the pain before coming to a final conclusion.

I had had enough. I grabbed the wire from the corpse's neck beside me, kicking muchacha's knees in the process, and wound the piece of wire around his neck as he fell to the ground.

My right knee was positioned in the middle of his back as his front was sprawled onto the floor, allowing me to pull the wire tighter around his neck, successfully cutting through his skin and slowly and painfully into his jugular, causing more blood to spill from his neck.

He yelled in pain and his limbs flailed out, trying to push me off his back, but to no avail, that I made sure of. It wasn't long before he could no longer yell or scream as he choked on his own blood; his limbs stopped moving as his heart failed him. His eyes were open in shock, paralyzed with fear at the same time.

I let go of the wire, surveying the two cuts on each of my palms from holding the sharp piece of wire. I surveyed my handiwork, blood had gotten onto the brown guard's shirt I was wearing, but the white shirt underneath was fine, as well as my pants which only had a few drops of blood on it.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust as the scent of blood was too overwhelming for my nostrils. I quickly grabbed a pair of binoculars before leaving for the outer part of the tower where there wasn't a trace or scent of the rapist's blood.

The thrill of killing him had reminded me of my kills of the students on my school two decades ago, but back then I used a knife to gut or slice open their throats instead of strangling them with a piece of wire. I 'smiled' at the sudden nostalgia.

Just then, I spotted stray dust along a road. I used the binoculars to try and get a clearer image of the objects coming towards this place.

Fuck.

I cursed out loud as I realized those objects were the fucking authority. I climbed up the ladder leading to the top of the tower, the roof, trying to get the attention of the fellow convicts. I whistled loudly, shrugging off my blood-stained shirt, waving it above my head, yelling out, "We got company."

I finally caught the attention of Diamond Dog who dropped the ropes he was carrying, rushing towards Cyrus. I stopped and started climbing down the ladder, and started running towards the plane and its passengers.

By the time I got there, they were already hauling ropes and latching it onto the plane and started pulling it away from the propane tank. Where the hell was Cyrus? I spotted him near the plane instructing the convicts, more like ordering actually.

"Cyrus! Cyrus!" I yelled out for the bastard.

He turned around to face me as I got closer. "What now?" it was obvious he was a little miffed at my sudden and 'loud' appearance.

I was panting but still managed to get the words out, "Francisco's …lackeys were… here before us …bastard played… us."

His eyes lit up in fury or surprise, or possibly even both I assumed, before he called out to the rest of the convicts, "Where is Sandino?'

"He took off towards one of the warehouses, said he needed some supplies," one of the convicts said while the others nodded in confirmation.

"Fuck," Cyrus muttered.

His eyes suddenly widened as he spotted, aswell as the other convicts, Sandino's airplane.

"That's my fucking plane," Cyrus yelled out, furious. He started running towards the speeding plane, aswell as others who followed him. I stayed put, seeing no point in chasing something too fast to even catch up with.

My eyes widened in surprise as I watched a crane collapsing onto the plane, tearing off half its body. The screeching of metal against one another was deafening as the upper body of the plane crashed into a warehouse/gas-station, causing gasoline to spill onto and around the broken aircraft.

Looks like karma prevails as usual.

Sandino crawled out of the airplane or what was left of it and tried to be on reasonable terms with the Virus. I snorted at the unlikely possibility.

I was proven correct as the Virus tossed a cigarette into the gasoline, setting Cebuano boy on fire aswell as the plane, causing it to explode aswell as the entire gas station, it litted up like the fourth of July, gotta love them fireworks.

Cyrus wasted no time shooting open the hatch that led to the weapons on the 'jailbird'. He unloaded numerous crates filled with rifles and automatics and shotguns even, to us.

"What now, Cyrus?" Bedlam requested.

_**Author's Note: Recap- Billy Bedlam alive**_

_** -Johnny 23 dead**_

_** -Lex still alive…**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Con Air: Boneyard Shootout**_

"Considering my audience, I'm going to make this very quick and very simple," with that Cyrus used a rusted metal pole to draw a line on each side of the five cola cans he put out, "this is the boneyard," referring to the junk on each side of the cans.

"This is the Hanger," which was a square metal box, "this is our plane," he tapped a metal object which bore an uncanny resemblance to our plane.

"The authorities will enter the boneyard through here," which he marked out, "initially, we take out the first car, then the last, creating a trap; an air-tight cage filled with lots and lots of dead people. Nathan set up everyone at their positions, and bring me those propane tanks."

As I started to leave with the rest of the group, Cyrus held me back, saying, "You come with me.''

We came towards an abandoned plane, "you go below and shoot them from there," with that he gave me a semi-automatic, "surprise them."

I nodded in affirmation. I slung a rifle across my torso, and positioned myself underneath the plane, whilst Cyrus was onboard the plane hiding on one side of the exit, where the door was supposed to be.

Meanwhile, the other convicts were setting up propane tanks all over the boneyard, twisting open the notch, preparing to blow the cops sky high. They were here; the convicts were already stationed, waiting for Cyrus to give the command.

The guards got out of their vehicles, failing to notice the propane tanks, ready to blow.

With that, Cyrus let out the first shot, along with Diamond Dog, right near the propane tanks, setting the first car on fire, and the last, successfully blowing them up. That's when all hell broke loose.

The guards started firing shots aimlessly to the abandoned junk of planes, whilst the convicts fired round after round catching the guards by surprise. Some guards hid behind the doors, but there enough space between the ground and the vehicles, for me to shoot at their feet, making them stumble in sudden pain into the open space making them sitting ducks.

Cyrus and Diamond Dog were having the most fun blowing up the cars and the people inside them. Everything was either in shambles or on fire, the guards were still losing even though they had taken out some of our men. There was a lot of yelling, screaming and most of all; blood splattering.

Cyrus set an abandoned plane on fire causing to fall onto the careless guards, taking out more of our 'problem'. My eyes widened in surprise as a tractor came out and the man inside it started using a handgun, informing the guards to get behind it. Shit, the prey had an ally and protection.

They were able to take out more of our men as bullets ricocheted off the tractor. Even Nathan couldn't get a clear shot. "Get back to the plane!" Cyrus ordered the remaining convicts, as he was able to effectively shoot out two guards.

As I looked up, I saw helicopters approaching us. Damn it all to hell.

"Let's go!" The Virus jumped out of the plane, with me following him from behind. We were able to get out of the boneyard unscathed, but as we approached the plane, I spotted the remaining guards approaching us.

"Get down!" I shouted to Cyrus who immediately ducked. I started firing at the guards, successfully taking them out with the help of a Virus, who shot at them from the floor.

When there were none left, we started running towards the plane which was starting to leave. Cyrus quickly jumped on board and pulled me up by my forearm, as the plane started building up speed on the runway, ready to take off soon.

"We're tied up," Cyrus called over the gunfire to Diamond Dog, who along with the Virus, started shooting multiple rounds at the cord wound around a thick pillar until it finally came loose.

The cops that had just arrived by the helicopters, were firing at us shots from handguns, they were failing miserably, might I add. Swamp Thing was lifting off the runway, I couldn't help but give a flying kiss to them. Get it? _Flying _kiss.

Tough crowd.

"What the fuck is that?" Billy said out loud.

"On any other day that might seem strange," Poe commented.

If seeing a convertible attached to a prison airplane in the air was strange on any other day, it was obvious today would be a pretty fucked up day for anyone not a convict.

Before anyone else could comment on the flying-wonder-of-a-car, Swamp Thing crashed the convertible into the tower causing the car to flip over right in front of the cops. Talk about unlucky; it could have at least _injured_ the damn cops.

Meanwhile, the slightly unintelligent bunch of convicts started boozing, singing 'sweet home Alabama' with Sally-can't-dance dancing to the music. Oh the annoying irony.

What caught my attention in this period of stupidity, were Diamond Dog and Cyrus, who were exchanging a note with one another, and giving apprehensive glances to Poe/hillbilly with Poe staring back at them. I wasn't the only one noticing this odd exchange. Billy was looking back and forth between the three of them.

'The fuck was going on' was clear on both our faces.

Suddenly, Cyrus switched off the radio. He said rather loudly, getting the attention of the fellow convicts, "someone alerted the authorities at Carson City and that someone told them of our Lerner rendezvous point. Now could this all be coincidence, perhaps. Then someone went to tie a rope to our plane, so I ask you what is going on? And I answer; we have a traitor in our midst."

Cyrus took out the keys for the cell the female guard was held in, opening it, "Now how do we pluck out the traitor?" he grabbed the female guard by the hair, aiming the gun at point-blank range of her head.

"Now on the count of three, I will find out who is on my team and who is not. That would be on 1.2.3."

And with those final words, the trigger was pulled.

_**Author's note: Sorry for killing off the female guard, but I found her unnecessary in my plot….**_

_**Next time: Who survives and who dies… [Cue in Pink Panther music]**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Con Air: Death Crash**_

Man didn't even flinch when he shot the female guard in the head, not even when blood and some brain matter splashed onto his clothing. Anyhow, the guard was dead.

"Bastard pulled the trigger too fast," Bedlam muttered.

"Yes but it's just part of his annoyingly elaborate plan,'' I said.

Billy sent me a questioning look as if asking me to explain my vague hypothesis. I sighed deeply. I didn't feel like wasting my breath, considering how tired I was from that damned shootout with those guards but I didn't seem to have a choice, after all, it would allow annoy and possibly anger Bedlam which I really didn't need.

"It is obvious that the guard was important to our traitor and Cyrus pulled the trigger too fast for him to react so that they would be overwhelmed with guilt and possibly give themselves up or the most probable reason would be that Cyrus just enjoys screwing with them," I answered truthfully.

Before Bedlam could comment on my statement, two convicts stood up; Mike 'Baby-O' O' Dell and Cameron Poe.

"I did it." Mike admitted.

"Don't listen to him, man, the insulin made him crazy," Poe tried to explain or at least reason with Cyrus, who looked briefly at Poe before turning back to Mike.

"You have been near death the entire trip,'' Cyrus was skeptical of mike's 'confession', hell we all were. Mike was as violent as Nelson Mandela, so no; mike couldn't have been the traitor unless he has MPD other than being diabetic.

"Yeah motherfucker it was me." Mike replied bravely. Hell I'm surprised Cyrus didn't shoot him for that 'motherfucker' comment.

"He's flipped out man, he's nuts," Poe tried to prevent his cell mate from getting shot.

"That's pretty clever, huh bitch," mike continued relentlessly.

That was the last straw for Cyrus, in that moment he shot mike in the sternum, causing Poe to curse out obscenities, as he tried to catch his best friend who fell to the floor clutching at his bullet hole.

"_My daddy is coming home on July fourteenth. My birthday is on _July fourteenth_._ I'm going to see my daddy for the first time ever on July fourteenth." Cyrus pulled out a stuffed toy; a white bunny, "Make a move and the bunny gets it." He looked directly at Poe, indicating him as our traitor.

Suddenly, bullet shots were heard and everyone, who had an acceptable IQ level, ducked onto the floor as bullets from one of the police force helicopters whizzed past us into the plane's interior.

Fuck it was those cops from before.

"Get up here!" Cyrus called out to us. 'Us' referring to those who had a weapon and knew how to aim.

Diamond Dog was already shooting at the damn helicopters. I loaded my shotgun, and headed towards the ramp and took aim at the one that shot at us first. I aimed at the rotor and fired four times before it finally took hit, with the help of the other convicts, and the helicopter started crashing into the mountains until it exploded. The other one had taken some damage too, as it started smoking but it didn't crash, backing off instead.

It was too soon to start our celebration when the rear cabin's gate closed, courtesy of Cameron Poe. God damn it all to hell. Cyrus was furious, who wouldn't be?

The Virus was an exception when he started shooting at the gate's lock, shattering it with his rifle before forcing the doors open before yelling for our traitor who was inside the captain's cabin.

Wait, was the plane starting to land. I ran towards one of the barred windows, seeing that one of the engines was badly damaged as smoke started emitting from it, shit, hell it looked like shit. If we landed now, our only possible run-way would be Viva Las Vegas.

I don't remember anyone refueling this piece of shit aircraft. We were screwed. Poe was our new captain, Cyrus was trapped and well Swamp Thing was going to end up killing us.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Bedlam yelled, feeling the drop as well.

"Brace yourself, dumbass, we're gonna crash," I yelled to him as well as to anyone else with in hearing range.

"Strap in ladies, we're going for a night out in Vegas,'' Swamp Thing reported over the intercom. It was a poor attempt at a joke because of how dead serious the bastard's voice sounded.

I ran to one of the seats, strapping myself in along with anyone else who wanted to live. Man, was I wrong when I thought how fucked up the day was when Garland Green started singing, "_he's got the whole world in his hands, he's got the whole world in his hands, and he's got the whole world..." _

Diamond Dog was looking at him as if he had grown two freaking heads, hell some of the convicts were too busy making the sign of the cross and praying their asses off to notice. One convict though shrieked in a manly way I suppose at Garland, "Shut the fuck up you freak! We're gonna die!" he really did have a high-pitched voice.

We took out half a hard-rock cafe sign before we crashed on a road gliding all the way down it before finally stopping/crashing into a casino, the propeller on the defective engine sliced half way through the airplane.

When it was over, the entire plane was wrecked; my head and arms had cuts on them. Pain spread through my body, specifically my right arm, fuck it was broken. I could hear the sirens approaching us, I had to get out.

For my escape, I need to thank Cyrus for I saw him and two other convicts crawling through an escape hatch to freedom. Shit, the sounds were getting closer. I crawled through the hatch and the tight space between the plane and the ground, cutting my hands and lower parts of my arms.

It hurt like hell but it wasn't as bad as the pain in my right arm. When I got out, I realized I couldn't go out yet, they would recognize me since I was the only woman in the plane. I spotted a woman who was dead behind a pillar, if you considered a piece of metal sticking out of your head fatal, then yes she was dead.

I took off her black leather jacket and exchanged my brown pants with her dark blue jeans; I mean I wasn't that heartless to leave her half-naked even if it was a corpse. I took off a 'Viva Las Vegas' black cap from an injured guy, and started limping towards the paramedics.

I passed the inspection and they put my right arm in a brace before finally stitching my wounds and bandaging them. I started walking around the crash site looking for our traitor. I found him soon; he was hugging and talking to his wife. I pulled out my loaded gun until a child's voice stopped me. I was only a mere 30 feet away from them.

"Hey what's that you got in your hand?"

I turned to my around to see an eight-year-old blond girl staring at me with a dirt-ridden toy in her hands.

"It's a gun, it hurts people." I replied, my brownish eyes gazing into her blue ones.

"But don't you go to jail and my daddy said jail was a bad place."

"Who's your daddy kid?"

She pointed to Poe. "That's my daddy."

So you're the reason he betrayed all of us convicts. I crouched down to her height, looking directly into her eyes, asking her, "Why are you so important to him child?"

"I love even though I ain't ever seen him before; he was in prison before I was even born, but I love him and so does my mummy." She answered me, her voice so innocent, that she was, innocent, she reminded me of someone I knew.

With those thoughts, I unloaded my gun, handing her the empty gun which she took. "I want you to remember this child, I was going to kill your mummy and daddy but I'm not going to do that because of you."

"Why me?"

"You remind me of a friend I once knew, kid," with those final words, I turned around and walked away. Just as I reached the street, I saw young Cassie going up to her folks, alarming them of course with the empty gun she held in her hands, at that moment, Poe looked up, catching my gaze.

I 'smiled' and tipped my cap, walking away from the disaster that small child had caused...

_**AN: One more Chapter...**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Con air: Author's Note READ**_

_**Dear readers, I feel it necessary to explain my p.o.v. I know that the entire story has revolved around the movie's plot which was what I planned as my dear readers; I plan to create a sequel.**_

_**This sequel will have the Virus, the amazing Dr. Cyrus Grissom. The violent yet critically-acclaimed author, Diamond Dog/ Nathan Jones and **__**Garland 'The Marietta Mangler' Greene, and hopefully more characters.**_

_**First I need to apologize for the grammar as my horrendous Microsoft software is very, very old. Therefore I have decided to update it, which will take place in four days time, so please bear with me. Alright this is my last version of horrible grammar and sentence structure as it will improve. **_

_**Oh and before I forget, I would love to thank the reviewers; **__**thisisforyou **__**and **__**heyitsKATE.**__** And I would thoroughly enjoy reading your novel, please finish it, because it is going to be awesome! ;)**_

_**Con air: Farewell **_

That marks the end of my journey.

To whoever reads this small memoir, I would like to take this moment to discuss my previous point of 'perspective'. This perspective refers to you the reader. If you are an "innocent", I assume that you think that my entire tale was a waste of time, because of the stereotype that you have of us convicts. You think that we can never change no matter how hard we try, even if we seek redemption or retribution, we will forever remain tainted.

However, you are mistaken. No one is truly innocent, everyone has done a wrong act, whether small or large, everyone is tainted. No matter how much you choose to disagree with this opinion of mine, it will be on deaf ears as I am no longer within the same continent as this small journal.

Perhaps we may meet some day, and then discuss this topic, however that idea is on a very slim chance. In most opinions, impossible, however, and I quote Einstein's very words, "Consider all the possibilities."

If we do ever meet, I will be interested in your 'perspective', until then _**caccia addio e felice.**_

As the man who sat on the uncomfortable bed in its dingy cabin closed the small journal, he began contemplating the endless, yet amazing possibilities he could achieve with the maniacal and voluptuous "Teen Slaughterer" by his side along with his other associates. If his informants were right, it was time to find his new associate and begin his plan.

It was time for the Virus to visit the Slaughter House...


End file.
